


How to Daddy 101: By Adam Raki

by Ishxallxgood, stratumgermanitivum



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Spacedogs - Fandom
Genre: Adam has a control over his meltdowns, Adam just wants to take care of his husband, Baby Nigel, But they actually communicate and fix things, Daddy Adam, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nigel is a good boy, Nigel just wants to make Adam happy, Nigel makes bad decisions, Non-Sexual Age Play, although they are idiots in love, because for once in their lives they're not idiots, even if he doesn't think so, these two idiots actually talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/pseuds/Ishxallxgood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: Adam Raki loves Nigel. It is one of those irrefutable facts of life.Nigel Raki is a disaster of a man. It is also one of those irrefutable facts of life.All Adam wants is to take care of his husband. Make sure he's eating right, and getting enough sleep, and maybe help him relax by coloring the universe.This is the one where Adam makes a conscious decision to be Nigel's Daddy.
Relationships: Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki
Comments: 25
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one was actually much easier to write than baby Adam. Adam is a terrible baby, Nigel on the other hand, Nigel is a wonderful baby who _actually_ listens to Daddy.
> 
> We hope you enjoy this because Adam is 100% Daddy.

Adam loves Nigel. 

It is a fact. Undisputable. Undeniable. 

Adam understands this fact like he understands the fathomless universe, not very well, and with the utmost expertise. Unlike Beth, or Lucas, or Jacob, or Carol, Adam doesn't have to  _ think about _ whether or not he loves Nigel. He simply does.

Adam loves Nigel the way he loves space, his telescope, his models. He wants to learn all he can, immerse himself in his study, take care of and protect it. He wants to build him up and watch him flourish. He wants to shelter and protect him. Which brings him back to his current dilemma. 

Adam loves Nigel. 

Adam loves Nigel so much in fact that it's becoming difficult for him to  _ not _ do anything anymore, because Nigel is self destructing. Nigel's been running himself ragged, barely sleeping and not eating right. Nigel needs structure, a schedule, a routine.

It is why Adam had spent the past two weeks familiarizing himself with ageplay. Not that he wants to be Nigel's  _ Daddy, _ but because he operates better when there are rules and a structure he could follow. It is simply a means to an end, and if he has to be Nigel's  _ Daddy _ to achieve it, he will.

“Nigel,” Adam says with as much conviction as he can muster, “it’s time for bed.”

Nigel’s brain is coming apart at the seams. He feels like his head’s on fucking fire. He’d finally been cutting down on his smoking and now he’s back up to nearly a pack a day. He feels like he spends more time on the fucking balcony than with Adam.

It turns out moving a business from Romania to California is really fucking  _ difficult _ . There’s a thousand things he didn’t think about. New laws to learn to evade. New buildings to acquire. And though some American cops take bribes just like any pig, they’re not  _ quite _ as eager to hop in Nigel’s pocket as the Romanian ones. Something about the accent, he suspects.

Nigel’s got three burner phones, plus the safe one he uses just for Adam, and two of them are ringing. He’s got one laptop open running figures and projecting numbers, and another blaring some loud and violent movie into the one earphone he’s bothered to wear. He’s not really paying attention to it, but the yelling makes him feel better, and makes Adam feel worse. He’s learned to compromise because he’s gonna be  _ good _ at this relationship shit this time around. 

“Yeah, darling?” Absentmindedly, Nigel makes a vague approximation of a ‘kiss face’ in Adam’s direction. “You have a good night. I’ll turn the ringers off and take my calls outside.”

"No," Adam says, taking a step toward the balcony. He can do this. Be firm, assertive. "It is time for bed, Nigel. I will give you ten minutes to finish up what you are immediately working on before turning off the Wi-Fi."

Nigel turns his head so fast that the earphone yanks out of his ear. He tries to figure out if he’s done something lately, missed an event or forgotten a date, whatever to cause his darling to speak to him like that. 

“Adam,” He says gently, “You don’t have to stay up just because I am. If I wake you when I come to bed, I can just crash on the couch. I’ve got things to do, there’s a bunch of shit coming in tomorrow.” 

Adam frowns. Brows furrowing as he attempts to work out what it is he's doing that's not working. He had been firm, assertive, and yet not domineering, but Nigel had not responded the way he had hoped he would. How was it that his father used to speak to him on those school nights when he wanted to stay up far too late to see stars that were barely visible over the Manhattan light pollution?

"No, it is time for bed, Nigel," Adam repeats, matching his tone to the voice he remembers from his childhood, shocking himself when he hears his father's voice echo in their apartment. It is strange, hearing his father's voice come out of his mouth, a voice he hadn't heard or thought about in years. "Ten minutes," he repeats firmly before retreating back into the apartment to start his bed routine.

Nigel stares after him. He can’t quite comprehend what just happened. Adam didn’t give him orders. Of the two of them, Adam’s need for things to be a particular way occasionally leads to bossiness, but neither of them give  _ orders.  _

Or threats. Mild threats that somehow make Nigel feel like he is five years old at his mother’s knee, despite the fact that Nigel predates Wi-Fi by several decades. 

Adam has to be kidding. He  _ has _ to be. Or maybe he’s frustrated with Nigel’s late nights. Nigel can’t blame him, but he can’t  _ stop _ either. He keeps typing, and is still absolutely  _ shocked  _ when the internet goes out in exactly ten minutes. “Adam!”

"Nigel," Adam retorts, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe. "I gave you ample warning. I don't know why you're shocked. It's time for bed, go brush your teeth."

Nigel is confused enough that he does it without argument. He stared at himself in the mirror, completely baffled. 

“Adam,” Nigel says when he’s done, “Adam, I can’t go to bed. I have work to do.” He’s looking at Adam with wide eyes, even as his body goes through the motions of changing. Pajamas can’t hurt. Nigel has really comfy sweats somewhere, if Adam hasn’t ‘borrowed’ them.

"Work will be there in the morning," Adam says, voice eerily similar to his father's again, as he ushers Nigel into bed. "It is time for bed now. We can draw up a proper schedule for you tomorrow and discuss how to optimize the use of your time." 

Nigel lets Adam guide him to lay down against the pillows, and then immediately pops back up. “We can  _ what?”  _ He asks, staring at Adam’s serious face. “I don’t need a  _ schedule _ . I haven’t had a  _ schedule _ since….” Thinking on it, Nigel cannot remember a time when he has had a schedule. He’d been a bright child, but not an attentive one. He hadn’t cared much for the constraints of lessons, he’d left that behind as soon as he could in favor of late nights and bloody knuckles. “I’m using my time just fine,” he adds, slightly petulant. 

"No, you are not," Adam argues, climbing into bed after him. "Your sleep schedule is erratic, you miss more meals than you actually eat, and I  _ never _ know where you are at  _ any _ given time." Adam sighs, curling into Nigel, burying his face into his chest as he wraps his arms around him. "You are self-destructing and I don't like to see the things I love get destroyed. We will come up with a plan to fix this, and I will be there to ensure you adhere to it."

Guilt eats at Nigel’s chest. He isn’t worried about himself, so much. He isn’t bothered if he misses a meal, if he skips a night’s sleep in favor of catnapping through the day. The idea that he’s hurting  _ Adam _ , though,  _ that _ aches. Adam deserves only good things, whatever happiness Nigel can give him. Nigel runs his fingers through Adam’s hair the way he likes, frowning down at the top of his head. He doesn’t know what Adam’s plan is. He doesn’t know why Adam has suddenly decided  _ now _ is the time to enact it. And he doesn’t really feel like he’s being destroyed. But he’ll do anything for Adam. 

\-----

Adam glances between the clock and Nigel's sleeping face again. It's eight in the morning and he's been up for the better part of an hour, but Nigel's still fast asleep. He debates waking Nigel up again but he knows Nigel doesn't usually wake until closer to noon. Then again Nigel doesn't usually sleep until god knows when, and he went to bed at eleven last night. Nine hours should be more than enough sleep, but Nigel hasn't really been sleeping the past few weeks, and Adam would like it if he caught up some. Not that there's really such thing as  _ catching up on sleep, _ still, Adam resolves to let Nigel sleep for another hour.

By nine, Adam is restless. He is caught between leaping onto Nigel's prone body and kissing him until he grew hard under him and gently shaking him awake so they could discuss the terms of their play. He doesn't want Nigel to think that there is a sexual aspect to his decision, because there isn't. All he's hoping to achieve with ageplay is a more balanced schedule for Nigel. He simply wants to take care of his husband and ensure that they can enjoy the  _ healt _ hy part of their vows for as long as possible. 

"Nigel," Adam says, gently shaking him by the shoulder. "Nigel, it's time to wake up."

Nigel grumbles unhappily, tucking his face deeper into his pillow. It’s the first full night of sleep he’s had in weeks, and he’s reluctant to pry himself from it. “G’back to sleep, baby…” he mumbles, not entirely coherent. He’s overtired, lost in that hazy daze that comes from sleeping far longer than one should. He’s vaguely aware that he’s hungry, but he’s so pleasantly comfortable. He throws an arm clumsily over Adam, yanking him close.

"Mmm," Adam hums, falling against him. "It's time to get up," he protests, trying to resist the pull of Nigel's arms, because if he lets himself go, there will be no leaving the bed, and the whole point of this exercise is to help Nigel create a better schedule. Falling into bed with him for a morning fuck and most likely a nap afterwards will be counter intuitive to what he is trying to achieve. "I made you breakfast. Bacon and eggs, and a cup of coffee."

The promise of bacon gets Nigel to crack an eye open. Coffee earns Adam the other eye. Nigel stretches with a loud yawn and an ominous crack of his back. “Alright, alright, I’m up.” He stumbles from the bed, trailing after Adam, mindlessly determined on his coffee. Black and burning hot, just the way he likes it. “Thanks, gorgeous. You didn’t have to do this.”

"I did," Adam says taking a seat across from him. "You wouldn't eat otherwise and just wait until lunch. Breakfast is decidedly the most important meal of the day. Not only does it help kickstart your metabolism but it has also been linked to things like better memory and concentration, not to mention the other health benefits." Adam pauses, stopping himself before he begins a lecture on the benefits of a well rounded breakfast. Nigel is already eating, it is what he wanted. 

Adam smiles as he watches Nigel eat. It is gratifying, watching him eat something he made, actually made and not just reheated in the microwave. There is a sudden warmth blooming inside of him, filled with pride and contentment, knowing that for once  _ he _ is the one to provide for Nigel. That  _ he _ is  _ taking care _ of Nigel. He waits until Nigel finishes, refills his cup before pulling out his laptop and pulling up the spreadsheet he had already started working on. 

“So I thought about it, and have decided that eleven at night is a little too early for you, considering most of your contacts are still in Bucharest. I have decided that two is a more reasonable time for you to go to bed. That gives you three hours to square away any logistical things on the nights you need to contact Bucharest. On the nights that you have to be at the club, it would only shift your schedule by an hour at most if you are able to close up in time.” Adam pauses, frowning at the screen. “It’s later than I had initially wanted, but I think that it is the most optimal time. Since it is winter, I have decided that I will adjust my own schedule to better match yours until you get used to it, otherwise I know you would never adhere to it. We will rise at nine, seven hours is a healthy amount of sleep, and we can look into adjusting that if it seems excessive or not enough.”

Nigel frowns at him over the edge of his coffee mug. Eleven at night is definitely too early for him. So is two AM, if his contacts are insisting on being idiots. And Adam’s schedule, Nigel knows, is extremely important to him. 

“Darling,” Nigel says slowly, “you don’t need to do all of this. Breakfasts and bedtimes and all that. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but you shouldn’t be going out of your way and messing up your schedule for me.”

Unspoken is the implication that Nigel doesn’t deserve it. That Adam should not put extra effort into Nigel because Nigel is an absolute disaster of a human being, and Adam is Nigel’s very own angel given life. The idea that his bad habits and worse career choices might be dragging Adam down too digs at Nigel. 

Adam takes a deep breath. Nigel’s protests are expected. If Nigel didn’t protest, he’d be concerned. What Nigel doesn’t understand is that Adam is willing to be slightly uncomfortable for him. He is willing to do many things outside his comfort zone for Nigel. "I do," he insists, tapping out a rhythm on the table. "You are important to me. Your  _ health _ is important to me. Shifting my schedule for a couple of hours is going to be fine. I will have more time to stargaze on the nights you aren’t home and starting my day at nine shouldn’t be a problem as I work mostly from home anyway.”

Before Nigel could protest again, Adam stands, taking the dishes to the sink and dropping the astronomical dot-to-dot puzzle book he had picked up specifically for Nigel, and a gold fine tipped pen in front of Nigel. “I want you to do one of these puzzles to relax while I tidy up the kitchen. When I am done you may go and finish up what you were working on last night when I cut you off.”

Nigel blinks. He looks at the puzzle, and then at Adam. The puzzle. Adam again. He opens his mouth. Closes it. 

Something weird is happening, something he doesn’t quite grasp. Whatever it is, Adam seems quite determined about it. Nigel doesn’t put it past him to turn off the WiFi again. And the last thing Nigel wants is to upset him, when he’s clearly already so upset. 

Hesitantly, Nigel picks up the pen and flips to a random page, feeling vaguely nauseous over the amount of dots. He draws a line, and then another. A few lines in, he realizes it is, indeed, pretty relaxing, but that just makes him more uneasy. Nigel is automatically distrustful of anything that feels good and doesn’t appear to have a catch. He sets the pen down halfway through. “This is stupid,” he declares, “I’m going to find my laptop.”

Adam turns at the sound of the chair scraping the floor, hands still soapy as he processes Nigel's words. That warm, fuzzy feeling he got when watching Nigel eat fades quickly and his heart sinks. Nigel doesn't like the activity he chose. He had assumed it was something that Nigel would enjoy, help take his mind off of things. Just focus on the numbers and let everything else fall away, but Nigel thinks it's stupid. 

"I'm sorry," Adam murmurs, quickly rinsing off his hands to join Nigel at the table again. He fights the urge to stim, balling his hands into fists as he stares down at the book. It's alright to get some things wrong, he reminds himself. He didn't like every activity his father had made him do, they had to figure it out together. He will figure this out too. Find something that Nigel will enjoy. "You did good," he praises, remembering that feeling that used to bubble inside him whenever his father praised him, "thank you for trying."

Adam’s words immediately flood Nigel with guilt. He hates disappointing him, and though Nigel has no idea  _ why _ he’s disappointed, he can still pick up on it. He sometimes feels like he knows Adam better than anything else, like he’s devoted his whole life to studying Adam. 

Nigel doesn’t understand the praise. It’s completely unlike the way they normally talk to each other, and that haze of confusion settles over him. But more important are the words themselves. He’s not  _ really _ trying, is he? He enjoyed the puzzle, and that confused him, so he gave up. And now Adam is disappointed and Nigel is  _ still _ so confused, but he’d do anything to fix it. He sits down quietly and opens the book again, trying to remember where he left off in the flurry of numbers. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

"You don't have to be sorry," Adam says, taking a seat next to him. "If you didn't enjoy it, you didn't enjoy it. You don't have to force yourself to continue just because _ I  _ thought you'd like it. We can find something else. Maybe model building. There is something quite satisfying about putting something together with your hands."

Nigel looks at him helplessly. He feels like he’s woken up in some other world, everything upended. “I enjoyed it.” He says slowly, “I was just frustrated. I don’t understand why… We don’t do things like this, Adam. Bedtimes and dot puzzles and model building. I’m confused. Relaxing activities haven’t exactly been high on my priority list in my line of work.”

Adam nods enthusiastically in agreement. "Yes, that is exactly why you need it, Nigel. It is important to find ways to relax and unwind after a stressful day. Finding an activity to help clear your mind is helpful. I personally like to build models, but I figured it would be better to start with something low impact. A ten minute puzzle seemed better than a two hour model. I'm glad you liked it, you can finish it if you want, or we can just stop here for now."

Personally, Nigel thought a smoke and maybe a bath was relaxing, but if Adam wanted them to do models and puzzles, then that was what they would do. Slowly, Nigel finished his puzzle. He felt oddly tired at the end, but in a comfortable way. Like he could curl back up in bed with Adam and just hold him for a few hours. 

But he had to work. It made him grumpy again, and he frowned as he closed the book and handed it back to Adam. “Alright, darling. Time for me to go call some idiots for a few hours.”

\-----

Over the next few weeks, Adam finds that getting Nigel into a routine isn't impossible. For the most part he goes to bed on time, albeit begrudgingly, and there were a few times Adam had to coax him with sex, but over all he's successful. Mornings are a little harder. Nigel is most definitely  _ not  _ a morning person, but Adam finds that he can usually coax Nigel out of bed with a fresh cup of coffee. 

There are days Adam initiates play, usually following a rough night where Nigel was cursing more than talking into the phone. He hasn't tried anything too  _ out th _ ere just the dot-to-dot puzzles and some coloring. He did read to Nigel a few times, but he isn't sure if that counts as he was reading an 'adult' book. The thing is, Nigel is  _ usually _ obedient, which is why Adam is having a rough night. 

Adam had turned off the Wi-Fi an hour ago, told Nigel it was bedtime and had even tried to coax him into bed. Nothing had worked. Now, at three in the morning, Nigel is  _ still _ screaming profanities into the phone and Adam is sitting on the bed trying to stave off a meltdown. Adam is stressed and on edge by the time Nigel  _ finally _ hangs up.

Nigel is not a bit tired. Or rather, he is in the alert stage that comes from being  _ over _ tired, tightly wound and more than a little tense. He feels guilty about the fact that he’s kept Adam up, but more than that, he’s irritated that somehow, his business is staffed entirely by idiots. He reaches for his cigarettes, heading for the balcony. “Baby,” he calls over his shoulder, “don’t wait up for me. I’m not gonna get much sleep tonight.”

"What? No!" Adam exclaims, scrambling off of the bed. It is almost two hours past bedtime, he is overtired and his whole schedule is now off. He catches up with Nigel as he's opening the door to the balcony, biting hard on his lips as he breathes heavily through his nose. 

Adam tries to calm himself down, to swallow down his frustration and  _ not _ start screaming at Nigel. It won't do him any favors to have a meltdown right now. Nigel will think it stemmed from having his schedule thrown off, and perhaps it might be, in part, but what he _ needs _ is for Nigel to be obedient and go to bed. 

"Nigel," he says, channeling that tone his father used to use when he was being difficult. "Stop right there, Nigel William Aloysius Raki, so help me God. It is nearing four in the morning and bedtime was  _ two _ hours ago. If you step out onto that balcony I will tell Darko that we will not be attending his party tomorrow night because  _ you _ were being naughty and disobedient."

Nigel stops in his tracks, some long-buried childhood instinct telling him he’s stepped in it now. It takes him a minute to remember this is his  _ husband _ , not his mother. It takes him another minute to process the words and realize it doesn’t seem to matter. Adam certainly  _ looks _ like his mother, at the very end of her rope, stern and impatient and furious at whatever trouble Nigel has gotten himself into this time. 

A few things start to make sense, clicking together in a series of ‘oh shit I should have realized’ moments. Schedules. Bedtimes. Fucking  _ coloring _ . He’d thought Adam was just on some weird mental health kick. He’d thought they were making these changes together.

Now, he realizes that Adam was making changes  _ for him _ . These had not been suggestions, but instructions. Not just frustration with Nigel’s late nights, but an intention to curb them. To  _ take care _ of Nigel. 

These things click together, and Nigel is at once humiliated and strangely pleased. He enjoys being the center of Adam’s world. He’s not quite sure he enjoys the idea of being Adam’s  _ baby _ . But when he opens his mouth to speak, what comes out is not an adult protest, or a question. What comes out is a tired whine, “But I don’t  _ want _ to go to bed.”

"Nigel," Adam says, taking him by the hand, "if you come to bed now, I'll hold you and sing you a lullaby, and in the morning we can go to that bakery you like and you can have cake for breakfast."

This is weird. Nigel knows it’s weird, as much as he knows that saying so would only hurt Adam’s feelings. And as much as he suddenly, overwhelmingly  _ wants _ it. He wants to be held. He wants a lullaby. He very much wants some cake. 

And he wants the rest of it, coloring and bedtime and someone taking  _ care _ of him, when Nigel has spent all his adult life being the only one to look out for himself. He squeezes Adam’s hand, taking a hesitant step closer. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, “I didn’t realize we were doing….  _ This.” _

"Oh," Adam says dragging him back towards the bed. "Well you don't have to call me Daddy or anything, although I am effectively playing the role, and you're  _ not _ my baby or anything, you're just my Nigel."

Adam helps Nigel divest himself of his shirt and jeans, turning down the bed before folding his jeans and tossing the shirt into the hamper. He fights the urge to tuck Nigel in, opting instead to crawl over him and pull him into his arms. "You need the structure and discipline," he says gently carding his hands through Nigel's hair, "but also all the praise and rewards. I don't think you're told enough how good you're doing and how hard you're trying. I should be better about that, because you are doing very good for the most part, and deserve more rewards."

Nigel isn’t sure how he feels about things like “Daddy” and “baby.” He knows he likes being  _ Adam’s  _ Nigel. He knows he likes having Adam against him like this, warm and comfortable. The fingers in his hair feel like heaven, even if the things Adam are saying make him feel uncomfortable. 

Praise and rewards? Nigel’s not sure he can handle it. He doesn’t feel good. He’s always known he was a bad man, and he had been perfectly comfortable with that. Up until Adam. Adam makes him want to be good, but he’s painfully aware every day that he isn’t. 

Instead of dealing with any of that, all of it problems for a future Nigel, instead, Nigel hides his face against the pillow. “Will you really sing for me?” He asks, sounding both wistful and raw. 

"Yes," Adam answers, "I told you I would."

Adam shifts them, maneuvering Nigel until he is properly tucked against him, his head resting on Adam's chest. " _ Twinkle, twinkle, little star, I know exactly what you are. Opaque ball of hot dense gas, million times our planet's mass, looking small because you're far, I know exactly what you are..." _

Nigel feels small. He’s not sure if he likes it or not. Adam’s voice drifts over him, his pulse loud in Nigel’s ear, and Nigel hums along, slightly out of tune, drifting slowly quieter and quieter. Eventually, it trails off entirely. Nigel is out, exhaustion finally overtaking him and dragging him down into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam is happy.

It is not a novel feeling, happiness. He's known it before. Like the first time he successfully found a deep space objects himself, or when he graduated top of his class and his father was  _ so _ proud. Or when he first met Nigel and  _ everything _ in his life was just  _ right. _ He had been beyond ecstatic the day they got married and Nigel literally swept him off his feet, but is is not quite like the happy he feels now. Granted, it doesn't take much to make him  _ happy _ when it comes to Nigel.  _ Nigel _ himself makes him happy just by simply by existing. But an obedient,  _ healthy,  _ Nigel brings him unimaginable joy.

Nigel is a wonder, and everything Adam could ever want in a partner. A husband.  _ A baby. _ He's supportive, listens well, makes Adam's heart flutter every time he steps into a room, and most importantly, takes direction well. He will always try to do everything Adam asks of him, and bends over backwards to make it up to Adam when he fails.

Thereby, Adam is happy. 

Inexplicably so. 

Seeing Nigel healthy and thriving is a delight. A burden lifted. Adam sighs happily, smiling to himself as he adds the final touches to Nigel's favorite dinner. A  _ tocanita _ he learned how to make from Darko, who insists is just like the one Nigel's mother used to make. Adam isn't very fond of it himself, as stews aren't really his favorite, but he can tolerate it fine, especially when it's served with  _ mamaliga, _ or rather a polenta. He doesn't like it over mashed potatoes, but it probably has more to do with the potatoes than the  _ tocanita. _

_ It’s just a graze,  _ Nigel keeps reminding himself as he heads up the stairs to their apartment. He’ll get home, he’ll wrap it up, it’ll be fine. 

Nigel is very good at what he does. But what he does isn’t exactly legal, and it comes with risks. There’d been gunfire tonight. Two men were dead, neither of them Nigel’s, and a bullet had grazed his bicep. He will have to care for it quickly; it will upset Adam regardless, but less so if Nigel can keep him from seeing it. 

Rather than rush to the bathroom, though, Nigel freezes in their entryway, the door shutting loudly behind him. The whole apartment smells of tocanita. His mamă's tocanita. Of beef and onion and tomatoes and  _ love. _ Nigel’s favorite, made for him by his Adam. His Adam who  _ takes care _ of him. 

For a moment, something tugs at Nigel, a softness that’s been growing as he and Adam try out this new dynamic in their marriage. The same softness he feels when Adam reads him to sleep or suggests he sneak in a short nap on the couch and then covers Nigel with his weighted blanket. He wants nothing more than to throw himself at Adam, to allow himself to be emotional and weak and let someone else soothe him. 

"Nigel!" Adam exclaims excitedly when he hears the door close. Quickly plating two plates, he makes his way out of the kitchen and places them onto the table.

"You've been such a good boy these past few weeks, I made you your mamă's  _ tocanita,"  _ Adam says, beaming as he crosses the room to give Nigel a kiss before helping him out of his jacket. "I didn't even have to call Darko to walk me through it this time."

Adam is proud. So very proud of his accomplishments with the meal and of Nigel. His brilliant, wonderful, accommodating, Nigel, who had worked so hard to stay on Adam's new schedule and take proper care of himself. But, Nigel has barely moved. Barely kissed him back, and is simply standing there, frozen in the middle of the foyer. 

Adam is confused. He had thought Nigel would be excited about the _ tocanita. _ That Nigel would sweep him into his arms and thank him enthusiastically the way he usually does when Adam does something  _ special _ for him (not that he's expecting special thanks, he didn't make Nigel the stew for special treatment, he made it for Nigel as a reward for his good behavior). "Nigel?" He asks meekly, cupping Nigel’s face in his hands and gently stroking his cheeks the way Adam had learned he likes.

The praise hangs in the air between them, heavy and sharp.  _ You’ve been such a good boy.  _

But he hasn’t, has he? Nigel tries to remember the last time someone called him a good boy. He tries to stretch his memory back even further, to the last time it was  _ true.  _

Adam is so gentle with him, as if Nigel truly is his baby, someone sweet and fragile and inherently  _ good.  _ But Nigel is rough, calloused, scarred. He has killed people with the same hands he touches Adam with. And Adam has never shied away from those hands, but there has always been that disgust in Nigel, an overwhelming hatred of himself. 

It’s worse now. He used to hate himself and his insistence on putting his dirty hands all over someone like Adam, but at least then he thought Adam knew he was dirty and just didn’t care. Now, he feels like he’s been deceiving Adam. Tricking him into caring for Nigel like he deserves it, like he doesn’t belong in a haze of blood and pain and drugs. 

Nigel steps back, panicked. Then another step, and another. His hand fumbles with the doorknob and he bolts, running for the street as fast as he can, running for the only world that makes sense. He doesn’t care that he’s left his jacket, or that he’s still bleeding sluggishly through a hole in his shirt. He only cares that he put as much distance as he can between himself and Adam, Adam who has always deserved so much better. 

“Nigel?” Adam manages to squeak out again, frozen in place as he glances around the empty room. His hands drop down to his side, and he catches the flash of red on his palm. He flexes his hand, it is sticky and wet, indicative of cooling blood. He fights the urge to wipe it on his jeans, to get it off his hand. There is blood on his hand. He doesn’t have a cut, or at least he is pretty sure he doesn’t have a cut. His hand doesn’t sting, it is just wet,  _ with blood. _ Shakily he bends down and picks up Nigel’s jacket. There is a blotch of red on the runner in the foyer, where the jacket had landed, and lo and behold, there is blood on the sleeve. He doesn’t have to examine the jacket for long to see the tear, to know  _ exactly _ what happened.

“NIGEL!?” Adam yells, stumbling frantically towards the door. The hall is empty, there is no sign of Nigel anywhere, not that he had expected there to be. Nigel had left abruptly, without a word. Adam takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking and his chest is tight. Nigel is gone. Nigel is gone and there is blood on his hand. Nigel is gone and there is  _ Nigel’s _ blood on his hand. He needs to stay calm. He needs to think this through properly. He  _ cannot _ have a meltdown right now. He can’t. Nigel needs him.  _ Nigel ran away from him. _

Adam wants to scream. He wants to throw something, hit something. He wants to stop shaking and make his heart stop pounding so hard.  _ He wants Nigel to wrap him up in his arms so he can think. _ Nigel’s not here though. Nigel is hurt and bleeding and wandering the streets alone. Adam doesn’t know where to start looking. Nigel is erratic, unpredictable, and he cannot even begin to guess where he would have gone. “Fuck,” Adam curses trying to channel Nigel as he fumbles for his phone.

Nigel’s phone bursts to life in the pocket of his jeans, too loud in the quiet night. He fumbles for it, staring blankly at the name. He hasn’t gotten too far yet, and he’s not at all surprised to see Adam’s name light up his screen, but his hands shake when he thinks about answering it. 

He wants to. He wants to click the button and apologize and go home and let Adam play Daddy. Not that Adam would want to take care of him right now, when Nigel’s running about like some idiot. 

Maybe he will. Maybe he’ll answer and let Adam yell at him- Adam  _ should  _ yell at him, Nigel deserves to be yelled at- and then go home. But just as Nigel works up the courage, the screen goes dark as the call transfers to his voicemail. 

Adam’s not surprised that Nigel doesn’t pick up. He didn’t expect him to when he called, he had hoped, but never expected him to. Hitting the end call button he slumps against the door. There is a smear of blood on it where he touched it to hold it open. The blood is starting to flake on his hand and he picks at it absently as he tries to think. He could call Darko, Darko might be able to help, he usually does when things go awry like this. He doesn’t want to call Darko though. What he wants is to figure this thing out on his own. 

With a sigh he pushes himself off the floor, picking up Nigel’s jacket along the way and tosses it in the washing machine before moving on to wash his hands. There is a blood stain on the runner he would have to take care of, but what he  _ needs _ to do right now is find Nigel. He debates calling Nigel again, it would be easier than wandering the streets aimlessly, but he’s also not confident that Nigel would pick up. Grabbing his jacket he tries to think as he walks. Nigel wouldn’t have gone back to the club, that is most likely where he got shot in the first place. Besides, the car is still in the carport, so wherever Nigel went, he walked. The problem is  _ where.  _ Adam doesn’t have the slightest clue  _ where _ Nigel would have gone, but he knows he has to at the very least  _ try  _ finding him.

Thirty six minutes later Adam finds himself wandering the shopping center of their preferred bakery. “Nigel, where are you?” Adam whines to the near empty parking lot. He is frustrated, on the brink of tears, and  _ cold _ . His only saving grace is that it is at least  _ California _ cold and not  _ New York _ cold. He wouldn’t know what to do if it had been  _ New York _ cold out. Nigel didn’t have his jacket, and if he could remember correctly he only had a that black button down shirt on, which isn’t very warm at all. Adam wants to cry. He wants to go inside the bakery, get himself a cup of tea and cry into a strawberry cake. But they are closed and he needs to find Nigel. He needs to find Nigel and bring him home, and dress his wound, and warm him up. He needs to find Nigel so that he can feel a semblance of normal again.

Nigel has been wandering.

He’d hoped that Adam would call again, take the choice away from Nigel entirely. He hadn’t, and making the call himself was just a bit beyond Nigel’s strength.

He’s been thinking about Bucharest. About violence and blood and never giving a fuck about what kind of man it made him. He’d lost Gabi that way. He’d never wanted to lose Adam to the same brutality. He’d tried so hard to be a good man for Adam, but he simply wasn’t. 

And maybe that was the key to it all. Maybe Nigel should just give up on being a good man, on love and relationships. He can go back to Bucharest, he can run the underground, he can stop trying to be anything more than what he’s good at.

It’s while he’s in the middle of feeling sorry for himself that he wanders right into Adam. He’s standing by the bakery, lit by the crappy flickering lights, and he looks so miserable that Nigel stops in his tracks, just a couple of feet away.

"Okay," Adam says, taking a deep breath, eyes flitting up towards the sky to map out Taurus. He can do this. He can focus on the stars and not the pounding of his heart and noises in his head and that feeling of utter despair. If he can just focus, he can find Nigel. Maybe. Probably. If he doesn't have a complete meltdown he should be able to. He bites his lips as he fidgets with his ring, tracing the imaginary lines from Elnath down to Tau Tauri.

When Taurus has been traced three times, and he no longer feels like he's about to explode, Adam exhales and turns to his left. "Nigel," he breathes out when he sees him, standing not five feet from him. "Nigel!" He calls out again, louder this time, quickly closing the gap between them and pulling him into his arms. 

"Nigel, you're freezing," Adam exclaims, running his hands all over Nigel's face, down his arms and back up again. There are goosebumps all over Nigel's arms, and Adam strips off his jacket to drape over Nigel. He keeps rubbing fervently along Nigel's arms, hoping it will be enough to chase the chill away. Adam is relieved, and angry, and happy, and sad, all at the same time. He wants to kiss Nigel, and hit him, and demand he never do something so stupid again. 

Adam’s hands are warm enough to burn. Nigel wants to fall into him, sap up all of that warmth. He hadn’t realized just how cold he was until the moment Adam reached out and touched him, enveloped him in warmth, and suddenly he feels like  _ ice _ . 

“I forgot my coat,” Nigel says, stupidly. They both know he didn’t forget his coat. They both know Adam helped him out of it and then Nigel ran out into the streets like a fucking coward. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s cold.”

"Yes, it's cold, Nigel," Adam admonishes, disappointment flooding his face as he slots their hands together. "Come on," he says, tugging Nigel toward the direction of home, "let's get you home. We'll talk about what you did when we get there."

Adam can hear his father's voice in his head again. The way he used to speak to him whenever he lashed out. He knew there was a reprimand hidden in those words, just like how he would like to reprimand Nigel now. Tightening his hold on Nigel's hand he chooses to remiss silent, to allow Nigel the time to reflect on his behaviour, the way his father used to do for him. 

Nigel follows him numbly, reality slowly setting back in as they make their way home. It’s cold. Adam is upset with him, upset enough to be stone silent. Enough to sound very much like Nigel’s mother. Nigel is shivering by the time they get back home, and he can’t tell if its more from cold or from the heavy weight of Adam’s disappointment. 

Disappointment would not have bothered him, once upon a time. Nigel would have  _ shot _ anyone who tried to express  _ disappointment  _ in him. He doesn’t want to do that to Adam, of course, but he tries to reach for some of that indifference, some of that free-flying devil-may-care attitude he’d once had.

Turns out, it’s a lot harder to be an emotionless dickhead when you’ve upset the love of your life and also, you no longer do massive amounts of cocaine.

“You should get in the shower,” Nigel suggests, more meekly than he intends to. “Get warm again.” He knows, intellectually, that Adam is not going to listen to him, but some part of him is still grasping for control of a situation that’s been out of his hands all night.

“No,” Adam says sternly, taking the jacket from him and turning on the fireplace. “You will sit down right there and think about what you did while I go get the first aid kit. You will not talk, you will not move, you will sit and stare at the fire and reflect.”

Nigel gapes at him, his mouth opening and closing. Adam hasn’t needed to put his foot down since Nigel started going to bed on time, and Nigel wants to say no, wants to tell him he’s  _ not  _ Nigel’s father. 

These thoughts filter through him even as he moves to sit in front of the fire, as if obedience now will make up for what a screw up he is. He stares into the fire, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Do you need help?” He calls over his shoulder. It’s hard to just  _ sit _ here, doing nothing. 

"I said, no talking, you should he reflecting," Adam calls back, pulling out towels and the gauze and sutures and saline and burn ointment and an extra shirt for Nigel just because he doesn't want to be distracted while he's still angry. Dinner is sitting ruined and cold on the dining room table and Adam can't even bring himself to care. At least now he’ll have an excuse to warm himself up a tray of Amy's.

Nigel is immediately silenced. He stares moodily into the fire, hands fidgeting with his shirt. He  _ liked _ this shirt, and now it’s ruined by blood. He’s tired. Being shot and moping around hating yourself are both equally exhausting, and he wants to sleep, but  _ no _ , he’s been put in  _ time-out _ like a naughty toddler. Worse, he’s bigger than Adam, not by much but enough that Adam could never  _ force  _ him. No, Nigel put  _ himself _ here. Because he listens to Adam now, because there’s no longer anything cool or intimidating about him.

Nigel moves two feet to the left, just to prove to himself that he can, that he hasn’t turned into a  _ complete _ sissy. Then he goes back to staring at the fire, because he doesn’t want Adam to be disappointed in him again.

When Adam returns, a fuzzy warmth blooms within his chest as he stares at Nigel staring at the fire. Nigel had  _ listened _ to him. Nigel didn't have to listen to him. Nigel is a grown man who could have easily just left again, but Nigel  _ listened _ to him. Adam wants to throw all the supplies onto the floor and wrap Nigel into his arms and just hold him all night, peppering him with kisses and whispered words of what a good boy he is. He can't though, because he needs to dress Nigel's wound and reprimand him for running out of the house without a word.

With a sigh Adam settles down next to Nigel, placing the items on the floor next to him. “Nigel,” he says, gently cupping his jaw, fingers trailing lightly across his cheekbones before tucking the ends of his bangs behind his ear. “I am very disappointed with you and I need to know you understand why.”

Nigel fidgets, jerks his head back, stares at his feet. He can’t look at Adam, can’t make sense of why Adam is bothering. His fingers itch for a gun and a target, some time at a shooting range. Some time on the streets. 

“Because I’m bad,” he whispers, turning to stare blankly into the fire. “I’m a bad man.”

"No!" Adam yells, a little too loudly, fingers digging roughly into flesh as he forces Nigel the look at him again. "I would never be disappointed because you're  _ a bad man.  _ I  _ knew _ you were a bad man when I met you, when I decided to marry you. You never lied about who you were, what you did, and I never cared. You could  _ never _ disappoint me by being who you are, but I am very upset that you  _ ran away _ instead of letting me help you."

Adam releases him, swiping at the tears falling freely from his eyes before dropping his hands onto his lap, fingers fidgeting restlessly with his ring. "I thought we were letting me take care of you," he says, voice quivering with emotion, "but you got shot… and  _ ran away _ from me."

Nigel knows his face is horrifically blank right now. He knows he looks emotionless, dead. He doesn’t  _ feel _ emotionless, he feels a thousand burning, aching things, but his face remains flat. He can’t seem to make it do anything sympathetic or apologetic or  _ at all.  _

“You deserve better than me,” he tells Adam. “Better than a man who goes off to work and comes home with bullet wounds. I’m not the kind of person who gets taken care of, darling. People like me don’t get partners who want to play Daddy and hold us and tuck us into bed. People like me get pain and anger and blood, and I never should have dragged you down into it. I don’t deserve what we’ve been doing.”

"What about me!?" Adam cries, balling his hands into fists. "Don't _I_ _deserve_ to be _happy?_ Don't I deserve to take care of the things, _the people,_ I love?" Adam sobs, hysterical as his hands fly up to hit against his temples. "Dumb Adam, stupid Adam," he screams as everything bubbles over at once. Every frustration, every emotion, he has tried to swallow down for the past hour or so, comes to the surface and he _cannot_ contain them anymore. " _Pathetic_ Adam, thinking he can be loved."

Nigel flinches back, startled and hurt. “What?  _ No _ , baby, no.” He grabs for Adam, pulling him into his lap and holds him tight. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant. Of course I love you. I love you so fucking much.” He rocked them both, the motion soothing for his own frayed nerves. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, don’t you know that?”

Adam clings to him, sobbing as Nigel's arms soothe him. "Then why won't you let me take care of you? Why-" Adam words are cut off by another helpless sob, his lungs are burning for air as he gasps, pulling free to turn and bury his face in Nigel’s chest. He continues to gasp helplessly against him, breathing him in. Nigel smells of gunpowder and blood and sweat and cigarette smoke and it almost knocks Adam back. Nigel has been  _ shot. _ Of course he  _ knows _ Nigel has been shot, it is what triggered this whole entire episode, but he had momentarily forgotten. 

Sucking in more air, Adam tries to calm his rabbiting heart, to catch his breath and stop crying. With trembling hands, he slowly works open the buttons of Nigel's shirt. He runs his hands across the newly exposed flesh, fingers carding through the thick patch of hair on Nigel's chest before moving to peel the shirt off of him, mindful of where the sleeve has stuck to the wound. It isn't a terrible wound, the bullet had barely grazed him, but it is still a bullet wound, and it still needs to be cleaned and dressed. "Nigel, I need to dress your wound."

Nigel tenses. He wants so badly to give Adam what he wants, to just let himself be taken care of. Only it just feels so impossible right now. He has done nothing to earn this. Every action in his life up until now should have earned him nothing but agony. 

Nigel wants to shake his head. To deny Adam the chance, but Adam is genuine in his affections, his desires. Nigel’s dressed a thousand wounds before, but he nods shortly. “You can take care of it if you want to.” Despite the fire, he feels chilled without his shirt. The sooner it’s taken care of, the better.

Adam nods. Steady hands moving to pick up the saline and flush the area before dabbing it gently with the towel. The wound is long and angry, but shallow. Adam hates it. He is half tempted to stitch it up, so it would heal in a nice, neat line. It is too shallow to stitch though. In fact, it would make no logical sense to stitch it at all, but he  _ wants  _ to. He wants to change it, make it his own. He doesn't. He leaves it as it is, puts the ointment on it and wraps it up tenderly in gauze. He helps Nigel into the clean shirt, buttons it slowly before dropping his head down onto Nigel’s lap. 

Letting out a sigh, Adam turns and buries his face into the soft fabric of Nigel’s shirt, visions of little dogs dancing before his eyes. "I don't care that everyone thinks I deserve  _ better _ than you,” he mumbles against him. “I don't care that you're _ bad.  _ That you work a job which requires you to be violent and mean and carry a gun to shoot and be shot at. I don't care that you've done things you cannot talk about, and have probably hurt more people than I can count." Adam takes a deep breath, fingers playing at the hem of Nigel's shirt, tracing the little dog over and over again. "I care about  _ you, Nigel. _ I care that you're  _ good _ to  _ me. _ And I  _ deserve _ someone who loves  _ me _ and accepts  _ me. _ Someone who can see past my… my  _ thing _ and  _ not care.  _ I  _ want _ to take care of you. I don't care that  _ you _ believe you don't deserve it, because  _ I _ do. I want to take care of you, and make you happy, and see you healthy, the way you do for me. Because I love you."

Nigel pets hesitantly at Adam’s hair. It baffles Nigel that anyone could look at Adam and  _ not  _ see someone perfect, but he knows Adam has had trouble with people before. It makes Nigel want to hurt the lot of them. 

“I love you too,” Nigel says softly. “I love you more than anything. I want you to be happy. I want…” he hesitated, tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I want you to take care of me,” he admits. “I haven’t had something like that since I was very small. I miss it.”

Adam’s heart flutters. That feeling of happiness overwhelms him again at Nigel’s words. He rolls over and grins up at him. "Good. Because I had plans to take you to Disneyland tomorrow. Got reservations at the Cantina and everything. We can even buy you a lightsaber so you can pretend to be a Jedi in Tatooine. I hear they're the good guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of this verse, but it is the end for now. :)
> 
> We hope you enjoyed it


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